


Eyes on the Prize

by FlatlandDan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows she doen't care.</p>
<p>Montenegro was probably beautiful and romantic, but all he had seen of it was the short ride to a  apartment and the view through a sniper riffle.  They had been here for a week now and he was tired of waiting for the target to show up.   He just wanted to take the shot and head back to his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes on the Prize

He knows she doesn't care.

Montenegro was probably beautiful and romantic, but all he had seen of it was the short ride to a shitty apartment and the view through a sniper riffle.  They had been here for a week now and he was tired of waiting for the target to show up.   He just wanted to take the shot and head back to his bed. It was, in short, like pretty much every other place he and Natasha had been in the last six months with the exception of the coffee. Goat milk and Nescafe had lost its charm after the first gulp and now the place was now littered with Coke cans.  Dates purposefully didn’t matter to him, but his job was to watch and when he saw an unusual amount of men carrying flowers it didn’t take a genius to figure things out.  The thing was, they weren’t dating.   Occasionally sleeping together, yes.  Screwing each other into mattresses? All the time.  But they never went anywhere together SHIELD didn’t send them and if a week went by when they didn’t see each other, well, shit happened.  No cute text messages, no long emails and phone calls only for work purposes.  They worked well as a team and if Fury suspected that anyone knew he would reassign them in a second.  A relationship was a potential weakness to be exploited by anyone who noticed it.

None of this changed the fact that it was February 14th and Clint wanted to see her smile.  Not her fake smile, but that genuine one he saw when he did stupid things that made her laugh.  

“Tasha?” Her eyes snapped open and he felt guilty.   Six hours on, six hours off was the pattern and she had just put her head down.  

“Target?” 

“Possible. I need to follow.” It was a lie, but a small one.  He closes the door and waiting barely a second to hear the lock click. He worried, not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but that someone would think she was alone and create more paperwork.  A minute later he’s on the street and heading towards the market with a goal.  Flowers, some of those olives with feta in them, and then back to the apartment in ten minutes flat.  Clint breaks into a run.

He’s haggling over the price of gerberas in his shitty Montenegrin when she calls.

“Target?” he asks immediately.

“Tagged.  I told you to clean up the fucking Coke cans yesterday. We’re out of the country in 30 minutes, get yourself to the airport.” She hangs up on him and Clint calmly pays the man, grabs the flowers and walks out of the market.  Running now would be a dead give away and as he hears the sirens get closer he hails a cab and asks to be taken to the airport.  He eats a couple of olives as the world speeds past and wonders if he should throw the flowers out the window. There is a good chance she’ll be upset with him, but when he sees her standing in front of the helicopter he knows the mission hasn’t been compromised and it’s fine.  Her eyebrows shoot up at the flowers and he shrugs a reply.

“Bought them for Fury, thought he could use a little love. Olives are the in-flight meal.”

She snickers every time their eyes meet on the flight back, as they pass the olives back and forth, and when he gives Fury the flowers on the Helicarrier deck he actually thinks she’s going to vibrate apart.  The flowers end up in a trash can and Clint ends up in a two hours debrief filled with repeated use of the word ‘priorities’.   By the time he gets out the flowers are gone and he thinks he should be happy that at least she got the olives.  Well, half of them.

Two nights later when he opens the ceiling panel in her room the second thing he notices is the vase with gerberas on the bedside table.  The first thing he notices is her smile. 

“So you did care.”

“For stupid romantic gestures on a commercialised holiday that could have jeopardized our professional and personal relationship? No.” She grins up at him as she shifts over to give his feet room as he lowers himself down to the bed.  He snuggles in besides her, cramped in the twin bed and sighs against her neck. “But you cared for _this_ to actually have the balls to hand Fury seven half dead gerberas, and that…makes me feel pretty good.”

“Only pretty good? I’m going to have to make you feel better.” He kisses her neck softly, careful not leave a mark. “I’m going to have to make you feel better. 100%. SHIELD agents have to be in tip top condition.”  They’re smirking now, dangerous plans and counter plans for the night forming in their minds.  She covers his mouth with hers and stretches his arms over his shoulders.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to show you how much I care.”

Clint doesn’t tell her that he already knows.


End file.
